Gaslighter

31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

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2022

          I wished I could say there haven't been many moments in my life where I'd been left speechless and paralyzed, but anyone who knew the slightest thing about me would know that was the furthest thing from the truth. My parents, out of all people in the world, saw right through me and my bravado whenever they could, including in situations where the last thing I wanted was for them to know me.

          Growing up, that was everything I'd ever wanted—to be seen by my parents, to be seen as a professional equal outside of their personal relationship with me, to be able to step out of their shadow for once in my life—but now there were more important things at stake, and I couldn't possibly allow for my personal, selfish whims to ruin the rest of my life. I'd come so far already; surely this wouldn't be the one thing that brought everything crashing down.

          My heart thumped against my chest so hard I feared my frail body would explode into a million little pieces, but I prayed those feelings and fears weren't reflected on my face. My poker face wasn't particularly great and I didn't trust the person I was around my parents, so all of it came down to wishful thinking on my part, but that wasn't something I could, in good faith, place my entire trust into. Ironically, I found I worked best with certainties, and my neurosis would never allow me to live in the moment or to trust the process; I needed to know every outcome of every little thing that I did or that I was minimally involved in.

          "Did I do something wrong?" I tentatively asked, though I feared that would be a serious mistake. It was second nature to assume I was to blame for anything negative that happened around me, but this was the one situation where I couldn't place myself front and center. Inserting myself in a narrative my parents didn't know I was a part of was dangerous. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

          "No, honey," my mother said. My hands were so gelid my brain hardly even registered the gentle caress her fingers left across my knuckles, in an attempt to make me relax easier. The rough part of it all was that I was unable to sit in front of them, look them in the eye, and pretend to be unbothered when all I wanted to do was either run away and never see them again or blow myself up. "You're not in trouble. We just want to make sure you're okay."

          I furrowed my brows, staring down at the condensation on my cold glass. "I'm not sure I'm following. Why wouldn't I be okay? It's my senior year, and graduation is right around the corner. My grades are okay, my senior project just needs a few more adjustments until I can finally—"

          "See, that's exactly where we're trying to get," my father chimed in. A rush of freezing horror ran through me, locking me in place just when I thought I'd be able to dramatically leave the table. He hadn't raised his voice or switched into an aggressive tone, but everyone understood how serious the conversation had become; he'd always been intimidating to other people, including Chase, but never to me. I knew my father enough to not ever fear him, but my life had shifted in priorities throughout the years, and presenting myself as the perfect daughter to two perfect parents had dropped considerably. "We're not sure how much you know about . . . recent events and their developments, but we also want to ensure you're not being unfairly punished over things that don't involve or implicate you in any way."

          The conversation was now fading into a side of the relationship I was slightly less uncomfortable around, but I still wanted to have no part in it. I'd gotten involved the moment my name had been dropped during a conversation I hadn't even witnessed, and being accused of slithering into the men's private business like some calculating snake was hardly fair. I hadn't asked for anything other than Chase's happiness, preferably including me, and all I'd gotten out of this unsigned business deal had been unsolicited destructive feedback on my work.